Abashedly, I stood before him, my nude form exposed all too figuratively and quite literally. Here I stood feeling as large as a whale and his eyes pierced into my flesh as though awestruck by something beyond beautiful- something magnificent. Eight months ago he never looked at me with eyes like this. My reflection seemed average in his eyes. And today that look has garnered me perfect. I feel proud to be this... This magnificence.
The irony of it all is that it has come a little too late.
Showing posts with label stories to tell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories to tell. Show all posts
9.29.2010
9.23.2010
Elise
There are days which I rise solemnly to a morning that feels like the rhythmic rifts of Weldon Irvine’s Morning Sunrise, and there are others where I wake up to my brother bellowing, “Elise! Mom said to wake up. Wake up, now she said!”
Each morning I arise and peer at the walls of this, now, pastel pink room. There is a rugged patch on my wall, invisible to anyone else upon entering my room; yet, it is a daily reminder of what happens when my mother’s boyfriend thinks I'm sassing him in the midst of one of his many drunken stupors. My younger brother plastered it over the day he encountered the gaping hole in my wall. My excuse: I was in the middle of practicing my flag routine and had a minor misstep into the wall. One would think he'd ask why I was practicing my routine in the house. If you’ve seen an HBCU band routine, you understand what that means. My flag, standing rather melancholy in the back corner of my room is perhaps the most notable thing that separates my room decor from that of your average girly girl.
I sleep with a blindfold over my eyes to ward off the recurring nightmares I'm becoming all too fond of. But each morning, as my eyes connect with the sunlight peering through my sheer curtains, the sun beckons me over to the solitary window in the expanse that is my room. I fell into perfect adoration with this room when we first moved here, solely because of this window. They say windows are the opening to possibility. Actually, that's what I say.
Unfailingly, in my spell bounded walk to bask in the warm rays and observe the picturesque forest view that is presently my backyard, I hit my right knee on my vintage sidetable, which my brilliant brother ruined by bolting it to the ground for Lord knows what reason. The permanent bruise on my knee is the only bruise on my body that I played a hand in creating. Often, I forget that just a few years ago I shared a room with my brother. Those were the days I despised. The days where everything was cramped and we were two bodies, stifled in a space meant for one. Now, I seemingly have the good life.
A walk-in closet bustling with clothes whose tags remain attached - this is now my life..
CafeUzuri
Each morning I arise and peer at the walls of this, now, pastel pink room. There is a rugged patch on my wall, invisible to anyone else upon entering my room; yet, it is a daily reminder of what happens when my mother’s boyfriend thinks I'm sassing him in the midst of one of his many drunken stupors. My younger brother plastered it over the day he encountered the gaping hole in my wall. My excuse: I was in the middle of practicing my flag routine and had a minor misstep into the wall. One would think he'd ask why I was practicing my routine in the house. If you’ve seen an HBCU band routine, you understand what that means. My flag, standing rather melancholy in the back corner of my room is perhaps the most notable thing that separates my room decor from that of your average girly girl.
I sleep with a blindfold over my eyes to ward off the recurring nightmares I'm becoming all too fond of. But each morning, as my eyes connect with the sunlight peering through my sheer curtains, the sun beckons me over to the solitary window in the expanse that is my room. I fell into perfect adoration with this room when we first moved here, solely because of this window. They say windows are the opening to possibility. Actually, that's what I say.
Unfailingly, in my spell bounded walk to bask in the warm rays and observe the picturesque forest view that is presently my backyard, I hit my right knee on my vintage sidetable, which my brilliant brother ruined by bolting it to the ground for Lord knows what reason. The permanent bruise on my knee is the only bruise on my body that I played a hand in creating. Often, I forget that just a few years ago I shared a room with my brother. Those were the days I despised. The days where everything was cramped and we were two bodies, stifled in a space meant for one. Now, I seemingly have the good life.
A walk-in closet bustling with clothes whose tags remain attached - this is now my life..
CafeUzuri
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